The Boy Who Really Lived
by Randomly Various
Summary: The Power of Choice--a strong concept. It can change everything in the blink of an eye. What if the one choice that had changed Harry's life.. changed someone else's instead?
1. Prologue

_**This fic was co-written by Randomly Various and Saturn's Candlesticks. Woo! We rock!**_  
  
**_Disclaimer:_** _We are in no way responsible for J.K. Rowling's characters._

**_Prologue _**

The woman in green stood there, looking at a tall man and another man with a briefcase and the tip of his wand sticking out of his pocket. She dared not look behind her at the others: it would hurt too much… more than it already did.

"What are we going to do about the boy?" she asked in a barely audible whisper. The two men seemed to think of all the possibilities. The elderly woman looked down at the young boy wrapped up in a blanket. "He can't go on knowing this."

"Yeah, I know," the tall man said, shaking his head. "It just wouldn't hold up. We could tell him later on, obviously… about this whole ordeal. We'd have to: he'd be famous! And he'd wonder about that scar…"

"And then when he goes to school…" the man with the briefcase continued. "But for now, I don't know what we should do."

Appearing behind the woman, an old man with a silver beard and half-moon glasses walked over to the little group. A shooting star shot through the sky. The newcomer looked up and watched it cross the dark blue blanket.

"They are started the celebrations," he stated.

"Yes, but how foolish of them. The Muggles are bound to notice something," the briefcase man said, frowning.

"Let them have their fun. They've been waiting for this day for so many long years."

"Still, they shouldn't give the whole magical world away," he huffed.

"But what are we going to do with… with him?" the woman asked, motioning to the little boy. The old man bent down, his sleek black boots squeaking against the pavement. He moved a tuft of hair away from the boy's forehead and tapped the lightning bolt scar lightly with his forefinger.

"He is to live with his family," the old man replied.

The woman nodded, understanding. Another star shot into the sky, lighting up their faces. The man with the briefcase scowled.

"But… we can't have him remembering this," the tall man protested.

"I know," replied the old man. "You should see to it that a memory charm will be placed upon him."

They nodded. The briefcase man brandished his wand from his pocket and pointed it at the boy. "Oblivious!" he shouted as a light flashed toward the boy.

The only sound heard after the charm was completed was the giggling of the little boy as another star shot across the sky…

0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0

"Are you serious?" a man with jet-black, messy hair demanded, after his best friend had told him the tale.

"Absolutely."

"But… he's really gone?" the black-haired man repeated, savoring the words. The other man nodded.

The black-haired man turned around to his wife, who was holding their baby. He hugged her tightly, making sure not to squish his son. Then he turned back to his friend.

"How?"

"Nobody knows! The little boy… just… no one knows…"

"Wow…" whispered the black-haired man.

His attention was suddenly turned to a roaring sound outside.

"Hey, now! Turn it off before you upset the little one." He smiled jokingly at his friend.

"I think she's changed you, man," the other man joked back…

0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0

A red-haired woman jumped up in glee, hugging her red-haired husband.

"It's over!" she cried, grinning from ear to ear. "It's all over."

Two young twin boys jumped around the house, screaming. "We will, we will, rock you!" they sang a Muggle song.

"Shush! You'll wake the baby," their mother scolded…

0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0

A man rolled over in his bed, his wife long asleep before he. Today was a strange, strange day. Those people in cloaks… and being hugged by that weird, little man… and a whisper… a whisper about…

0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0-o-0

In a small pub in London, people were celebrating and cheering, for tonight was a joyous night that not many had seen the past years. They all held up their goblets and shouted one phrase, in unison: "To the boy who lived!"


	2. Chapter One

**_The Boy Who Really Lived_**

**_Co-Written by Randomly Various and Saturn's Candlesticks_**

**_Disclaimer:_** _1. FANfiction. 2. No money._

**_Chapter 1_**

"Hurry, Neville, or you'll miss the train!" exclaimed an old woman with a strange, tall hat, upon which a stuffed vulture was mounted. Her big, red handbag swung around in her hand impatiently.

"Coming, Gran!" a small, round-faced boy with black hair called back. "I've just lost Trevor..._again_!" he hastily added.

"Oh, Neville," the old woman sighed, helping her grandson search around the train platform. She spotted the toad lurking around under the sign that boldly proclaimed: Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.

She handed her grandson the toad. He smiled sheepishly up at her and gave her an awkward good-bye hug before hopping onto the train. No sooner had he gotten on, then the train whistle sounded loudly and they pulled away from the station. That was a close one.

Neville looked nervously around and dragged his heavy trunk up to the nearest compartment. He slid open the door and found a girl inside. She was all alone with her nose buried in a book.

Neville cleared his throat, feeling butterflies in his stomach. "Er..."

She looked up at him suddenly and gave him a questioning, half-smile.

"Um... is this seat taken?"

She shook her head and he dragged his trunk inside. He tried to lift it up onto the rack, but found that he couldn't. The girl got up and helped him push in on. Forget butterflies, these were lions.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome. I'm Hermione Granger... who are you?"

"Neville Longbottom," he replied, shaking her hand.

Her eyes widened, "Really? You mean _the_ Neville Longbottom? As in, Neville Longbottom from 'Modern Magical History' and 'The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts' and 'Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century'? _That_ Neville Longbottom?"

Neville sighed; he supposed he should have seen this coming... Gran had warned him about it, too... He slowly nodded.

She gaped at him momentarily. Then she shook herself and broke out into a smile. "Do you know what House you're going to be in?"

Neville was slightly taken aback by the suddenness in which she had changed the subject. "Er... well, my dad was in Gryffindor, but my mum was in Ravenclaw... so, I dunno..."

"I've asked around a bit," Hermione said, "Gryffindor sounds, by far, the best. But I suppose Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff are nice, too... I've heard Slytherin isn't where I would want to be, though... do you know why that is?" She truly looked confused.

"It's because that's the House all of the Dark witches and wizards were in," Neville replied, looking out the window. He reached down on the seat next to him to hold Trevor, but the toad was gone again. "Ugh, I've lost my toad..._again_!"

"He probably got out of the compartment," Hermione concluded, peering through the open door. "Let's go look."

Neville nodded and got up. They went compartment to compartment looking for Trevor. Neville got a few funny looks, but no one really said anything to him. Finally, they'd reached the last compartment and Neville was none too hopeful.

Hermione slid the door open. Two boys, who were both laughing, occupied the compartment. One was tall and gangly with bright red hair and the other was smaller with messy, jet-black hair and bright green eyes.

"Have you seen Neville's toad? He's lost it," Hermione explained to the boys.

The one with black hair squinted at Neville through his thick glasses and said, "Hey, wait a second... what's your last name?"

"Longbottom," Neville replied, sullenly. He felt a bit unsurprised at this point that the boy was asking him this.

"Whoa!" the red-haired boy exclaimed. "Have you really got... _you know_...?" He motioned to Neville's forehead.

Neville sighed resignedly and pulled away his hair, which had been purposefully covering his lightning bolt-shaped scar. His Gran had been cutting his hair to cover the scar ever since he had moved in with her when he was a little over one. Ever since his parents had died...

"So that's where You-Know-Who...?" the black-haired boy prompted, gawking at him.

Neville nodded.

"I'm Ron Weasley," the redhead said.

"Harry Potter," said the other boy.

Hermione looked annoyed. "Have you seen his toad, or not?"

Both boys turned to look at her, as though seeing her for the first time. Both shook their heads.

"We'll keep an eye out for it," Harry promised as Ron stuffed a Chocolate Frog into his mouth. Ron nodded through his mouthful.

Hermione pulled Neville from the compartment where Ron and Harry were pigging out on candy to their own, quiet part of the train. Once they were there, she sat down, opened her book and said, "I'm sorry about your toad... but he'll turn up eventually, I'm sure." Then she was lost within the pages of ink.

Neville looked out the window. His great-uncle Algie had given him Trevor when he'd gotten his acceptance letter to Hogwarts. But Trevor was always getting lost and he'd never not turned up so far...

He watched the cows and sheep go by as the train sped past them. He was lost in his own thoughts for awhile, thinking about how lucky those cows and sheep were that they didn't have to deal with losing their pets, or going to school, or pleasing their Gran; he was jealous.

But it didn't matter, because a half-an-hour later, Neville had been lulled to sleep by the gentle movements of the train.


	3. Chapter Two

**_Disclaimer: We don't own it...so..you know the drill._**

**__**

**_Chapter 2_**

"We should put on our robes, I think we're almost at Hogwarts," Hermione said. Neville had been staring out the window for quite a while now, watching the landscapes go by as if it were one of those slide shows from a vacation. He had just now noticed that it had grown dark.

"Oh, right," he said, jerking from his state. He began to stand up, but before he could, three others came into their compartment: a blond-haired boy, with two others that were big, bulky, and looked like they could beat up an elephant.

"You must be Longbottom. Neville, right?" the blond said. Neville nodded. "Well, isn't that interesting." The blond boy laughed and immediately, his two bodyguards starting laughing too, oblivious to what was funny. Neville shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Where was this conversation going? The blond boy held his hand out. "Draco, Draco Malfoy." Draco smiled at Neville and his eyes flickered to Hermione.

"Hello, I'm Hermione Granger," Hermione said. Draco looked as if he was trying to recognize the name and then the phase was gone.

"Pureblood or halfblood?" he asked. Hermione looked startled and surprised at the question, as was Neville. Who asked this when they first met someone?

"Neither, my parents are both Muggles," she replied. The side of Draco's mouth drew up in a smirk.

"Why is the great Neville Longbottom hanging around a silly Mudblood when he could be with me?" Draco asked, hand still set out.

Neville didn't know what to say. He felt his heart beat a little faster. If he ignored Draco, it might turn out badly. He didn't feel like getting beaten to a bloody pulp today. Yet if he ignored Hermione, he'd hurt her feelings, and he didn't feel like being an egotistical jerk today either.

"I...I just... er..." his face grew warm. Draco withdrew is hand.

"Not much of a hero, are we?" he asked, "But I suppose it's not all your fault. You probably got dropped on the head when your mother was being killed." The two others laughed. "Crabbe, Goyle..." Draco looked at them oddly, "Shut up." And there was no more laughter from them.

Neville's eyes grew wide, his palms sweaty. He felt so mad at Draco! How dare he say something like that! How could anyone be so mean? He stood there, frozen.

"Let's go." Draco left the compartment, obviously bored with Hermione and Neville.

Hermione just looked at Neville. "We should get on our robes..." she said.

Soon the train came to a stop. Neville opened the compartment door, still unsure about what had happened earlier with Draco. He followed Hermione and the others off the train. A giant man was calling out to them.

"Firs' years! Firs' years ov'r to me!" the man called.

Neville walked meekly over to the man, next to Hermione who was grinning broadly. Neville looked back at the older students and saw carriages... carriages pulled by things that looked like demons.

"D-do you see those?" Neville asked, tapping Hermione and pointing to the demon-horses. She smiled.

"Oh yes, those are the carriages that take the other students up to the castle. I read all about it in 'Hogwarts, A History'. Although, they didn't say anything about how they were floating like that; I suppose it's just magic, of course!" she said all of this very fast and Neville wasn't sure she was breathing the whole time.

"No, not the carriages! Those!" he said, jabbing his finger towards the things. Hermione just rose one eyebrow toward her hairline.

"I don't know what you are talking about, Neville, let's just go." She tugged him along after the other first years, his eyes being forced to peel away from the horses. He wanted to stare at them all day; they looked so – what was the word for it? – dark. Their skin was so tight you could see their ribs... and their eyes. Oh, their eyes...

Neville got into a boat with Hermione, the two boys they had met earlier – Harry and Ron, and a brown-haired boy that had a cowlick. The giant man had to have a boat to himself. As they approached the castle, Neville gaped at it.

Each window was glowing with a bright and cheery light, and there were thousands of windows. It was so tall and so old; it looked like a Haunted House from a child's fairy tale. It was horrid and terrifying, yet oddly comforting and welcoming. Neville couldn't shake away the feeling that he would like the place a lot.

They got up to the castle, the big man leading them inside. Neville walked beside the man, and saw something sticking from one of his many pockets. It looked like a package with the numbers "1476" written on it.

"What's that?" he asked. The big man looked down and almost jumped in horror.

"It's nothin', don' worry 'bout it," he protested, hiding the package deeper into his pocket. Neville thought this was suspicious, but shook his head, deciding it probably wasn't any of his business.

The man opened the giant doors – even more giant than he – and they stepped inside. He led them to two more doors and told them to wait for further instructions.

Soon after, a woman with her black haired pulled into a tight bun came in front of the doors.

"Welcome, first years," she greeted with a tight-lipped smile. Neville heard a small croak and saw a flash of green by her feet.

"Trevor!" he exclaimed, pushing through the small crowd and grabbing his toad. The woman looked at him sternly and the other kids laughed.

"S-sorry..." he murmured, patting his toad and placing him in his pocket. He felt his face grow hot as he walked to the back of the group, trying not to be noticed. He had embarrassed himself enough already, he didn't need to anymore.

"I am Professor McGonagall, and I welcome you all to your first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. When you walk through these double doors, you will be at your sorting to see which house you are in. Be ready, and good luck." She gave them another one of her smiles.

Ron leaned over to Harry: "Fred and George told me we have to wrestle a troll.." he said, swallowing hard.

Neville felt himself grow nervous. Wrestle a troll? He couldn't do that in a million years. He'd end up knocking himself out. He bit his lip and hoped he wouldn't really have to wrestle anything. He was supposed to be the amazing Neville Longbottom, but he was actually just as clumsy as the next old fool, maybe even more.

The woman opened up the doors to the Great Hall. There were four tables, upon which older students from years 2-7 sat, staring at them all.

Neville grew more nervous: they'd all be looking at him while he wrestled a troll!

"Welcome, first years!" Albus Dumbledore said, in front of what looked like a staff table. Neville recognized this man; he had seen him so many times before. "And now, let's bring out the hat and let the sorting begin!"

**_Yes I am co-writing this with _Saturn's Candlesticks_ to answer your question._**


End file.
